


Tormund Giantsbane Is Not Useless

by Avidreader6



Series: Whumptober 2019 [6]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow's Resurrection, Light Angst, Loss of Limb is Off Screen, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medieval Medicine, Mild Blood, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Graphic Violence, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 13:51:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21075947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avidreader6/pseuds/Avidreader6
Summary: Whumptober 19 Day 6: Dragged AwayIt was just supposed to be a simple hunting party





	Tormund Giantsbane Is Not Useless

It was supposed to be a hunting parting. Just a simple hunting party. They had wanted to bulk up their stores of meat and pelts since winter had arrived and promised to only get worse.

Jon was following behind Ghost as he tracked an elk when he hears the shouting. They weren’t too far from camp yet, so Jon decides to go back and see if there’s something he can do to help. Ghost looks back at him, head tilted and Jon gives him the signal to keep going. “Go find it, Ghost. I won’t be far behind.”

Once Ghost takes off, Jon turns and hurries back to camp, feet taking him in the direction of the noise. He couldn’t say why he felt such an urgency to get back and check on Tormund, but his gut was telling him to move faster. 

When he makes it back to camp, he sees a large gathering of people and his heart leaps into his throat. There’s no sign of his fire kissed giant and he starts pushing through everyone, needing to see him. 

“Let me through. Let me through.” He sees one of Tormund’s right hand-men and asks, “where is he?”

Tormund's lieutenant points and the crowd parts as people realize who’s doing the pushing and Jon is ushered to the front. When he finally sees Tormund, he feels the blood drain from his face as he takes in the sight before him. Tormund is on his back, face pinched and drawn with pain as their healer hovers over his right side. It's hard to see exactly what is wrong, but the healer does not look pleased.

“Tor!”

Tormund’s eyes open at the sound of Jon’s voice. “I’m okay, crow.”

Kneeling near Tormund’s head, Jon pets the bright red hair he loves so much. “This doesn’t look okay.” The longer he looks, the more Jon knows it’s not okay. The lower half of Tormund’s right arm from the elbow down is a mess of blood and other things Jon doesn’t want to think about. “What happened?”

Tormund bites his lip as his arm is examined. “There’s so much snow. Some branches snapped and came down.”

Jon remembers the pile of branches he saw near the fire. “Tor? Did they come down on your arm?”

Green eyes soften as they look up at Jon. “I pushed one of the young ones out of the way. It all came down on me.” He reaches for Jon and strokes his face. “And as you guessed, on my arm.” He hears the murmurs from his healer and turns his focus back on Jon. “I don’t think it can be saved. Took a long time to dig out.”

Jon leans in and presses his lips to Tormund’s, not caring who’s watching. “It’ll be okay.”

Tormund sees one of their people coming with an ax and turns away from Jon to give the order. “Jon, I need you to go.”

“No.” Jon’s voice is petulant, even though he knows Tormund is serious. The use of his actual name always means business, but Jon is frozen where he is. 

“Jon.” Tormund’s voice is soft and Jon doesn’t notice him gesturing until a hand lands on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Before Jon can say another word in protest, he’s being dragged away from Tormund and out of the circle of their people. He struggles to get away and back to him, but finds himself blocked at every turn. 

He’s about to try one last time when he catches sight of Ghost near the edge of the camp. Blood stains his muzzle and throat and Jon knows he’s taken down the elk. Pulling away from the hands holding him, Jon jogs to the direwolf.   
“Come on, Ghost. Show me where it is.” Jon is happy for the chance to clear his mind and focus on getting the elk back to camp.

By the time they return, the dust has settled and the crowd has dispersed. Everyone has gone back to business as usual and there is no sign of what has happened. Jon doesn’t notice the elk being lifted from his shoulders until a wildling woman is nudging him and pointing toward Tormund’s tent. 

Jon thanks her and whistles for Ghost. The direwolf trots to Jon's side and Jon sinks a hand into his fur as they walk toward the tent together. Jon squints as they step inside, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness and find Tormund.

Ghost gives Jon a nudge and Jon huffs. “I’m going. I’m going.” Ghost huffs right back and nips at his fingers, pushing his head under Jon's hand.

He finally spies Tormund reclining, bare-chested on a pallet of furs and blankets, arm covered in bandages. A fire is burning in the middle of the tent and Jon hangs back near it while Ghost walks over and sniffs Tormund and then his bandages. When he’s satisfied, he gives Jon a long stare and lays down near the fire.

“Just gonna stand there? Or are you going to come over here?”

Jon moves toward Tormud, dropping his cloak on the ground and stripping off his gloves. He hesitates for a split second before climbing onto the furs and settling in Tormund’s lap. 

“Don’t think I’ve been distracted by your being bare-chested.” He strokes over Tormund’s chest and shoulders, fingers light. “I’m still angry.”

“I know.” Tormund’s left hand comes up and settles on Jon’s waist, fingers sneaking under his shirt. “I didn’t want you to see me cryin’ and screamin’ like a babe for a tit.”

Jon sighs and cups Tormund’s face in his hands. “You’re an idiot.”

“Crow.” Tormund’s tone is tempered, eyes serious.

“Hush.” Jon strips off his shirt and brings Tormund’s hand to the scars that mark his resurrection. “I don’t need to ask if you remember these. I know you do.”

Tormund touches each of the five scars, leaving the one over Jon’s heart for last. He flattens his hand over Jon's heart and looks him in the eye. “Where are you going with this?”

Jon leans in and presses his mouth to Tormund’s. The kiss is a little shaky, but Jon is thorough in his exploration of Tormund's mouth and he lets the kiss take away some of the fear and worry he'd felt. “You were there, Tormund. You stayed at my side and embraced me when no one would come near. Let me be there for you.”

“Jon…” Tormund kisses him. “Little crow.” He dips his head, embarrassed. “I was scared. I knew I was going to lose the hand. Knew that I was going to become useless for a while.” He holds up his bandaged arm for Jon to see. “I couldn’t watch as you realized that, too.”

“Idiot,” Jon teases. He kisses Tormund again and shifts closer. “You’re not useless.” Another kiss. “Never useless.” The next kiss lingers and Jon rolls his hips into Tormund. “You can still fight. You are Tormund Giantsbane. A lost hand means nothing. It will not stop you.”

Tormund lifts his hips to meet Jon’s and they both groan. He slides his hand between them and cups Jon’s cock in his pants. “Tell me more, little crow. What else can I do?”

Leaning forward so he can whisper right in Tormund’s ear, Jon pulls the hand away from his crotch and brings it to his ass. “You can still touch me. Drive me wild. I know every single thing you can do with just one hand and," he moans when Tormund squeezes his ass and reaches between them to get at Tormund's pants. "I think you might need a further reminder.”


End file.
